


Concerning the Matter of Unhatched Eggs

by clefairytea



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Clefairy's Holiday Fic Request Fest, Criminal Bonding Activities, Gen, Heteronormativity, Internalized Misogyny, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clefairytea/pseuds/clefairytea
Summary: “I’m very busy today, so I can’t be looking after you!” Snork said, bustling about with blueprints bundled in his arms. “I will need the whole house for this stage of my invention! I can’t be tripping over you and your silly toys. Go outside and play.”It would be a waste of breath to tell him that she was much too old to ‘go outside and play’, so muttering many rude things to herself, Snorkmaiden went out for the day.It was a lovely spring afternoon, but with Snork being such a fink, she could hardly enjoy it. Perhaps she would see if Moomintroll wanted to do something – he was sort of supposed to be her boyfriend, after all. Although it was sometimes hard to tell how much of it was playing pretend and how much of it was real. On days like this, when she felt down and grumpy and Snork had been cruel to her, she rather suspected it was the former.No, she didn’t want to go to Moominhouse today. It was no good, going to your boyfriend when you were upset. Boyfriends were no help at all.--Snorkmaiden has the day to herself, and something to prove.
Relationships: Snorkfröken | The Snork Maiden & Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 161





	Concerning the Matter of Unhatched Eggs

**Author's Note:**

> A Christmas request for [@milky-red](https://milky-red.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. That I went way overboard on.
> 
> Light warning for extremely cartoony drug use (er...sorta), as well as vague references to heteronormativity and internalised misogyny.

“I’m very busy today, so I can’t be looking after you!” Snork said, bustling about with blueprints bundled in his arms.

“I don’t need looking after, Snork,” Snorkmaiden said, snatching her eyeshadow pallet up before he stepped on it. “I was just going to try some new make-up today.”

“Urgh, use your good sense, sister!” he said, tutting. “I will need the whole house for this stage of my invention! I can’t be tripping over you and your silly toys all afternoon and night. Go outside and play.”

It would be a waste of breath to tell him that she was much too old to ‘go outside and play’. Likewise, it would be no fun staying home with him in such a state. Muttering many rude things to herself, she went out for the day.

It was a lovely spring afternoon, but with Snork being such a fink, she could hardly enjoy it. Perhaps she would see if Moomintroll wanted to do something – he was sort of _supposed_ to be her boyfriend, after all. Although it was sometimes hard to tell how much of it was playing pretend and how much of it was real. On days like this, when she felt down and grumpy and Snork had been cruel to her, she rather suspected it was the former.

No, she didn’t want to go to Moominhouse today. It was no good, going to your boyfriend when you were upset. Boyfriends were no help at all.

Instead, she found a lovely little glade to sit in, settling herself amid the buttercups, and cracked open her new eyeshadow palette. According to the magazine she bought it from, it was the same one Audrey Glamour used on her days off, although Snorkmaiden wasn’t all too sure about that.

It was a day when Snorkmaiden very much wanted to do something new. She always did the same make-up in the same way, and it was becoming terribly boring. Even when she bought something new, it quickly became something old, and then she would buy something else just to make things feel fresh. Sometimes, if she stepped out of the cycle, she would think how stupid it was and want ot tip all of her beloved trinkets right in the bin.

Of course, she never did, because who would she be without them?

Perhaps she could make her fur pale-green again, and paint her eyelids purple, to match the lavender growing about the valley.

That would look lovely, yes, but was it her colour? Did she ever _have_ a colour, really?

It felt a little dramatic, but sometimes she felt as though she were an egg still waiting to hatch. Yet she had been waiting so very long that she sometimes wondered if it were too late, and if the small round shape of her was all there would ever be.

As she was considering this, she heard a sharp little voice growing closer, and a pair of stomping footsteps. Straining her ears, she could hear a set of nimble feet following them.

“He’s no fun, that old Moomintroll,” Little My barked.

“All creatures have their traditions, Little My,” Snufkin replied. “It was our fault for not keeping closer eye on the calendar. We shall have to manage on our own.”

“Oh, yes, great use we’ll be, doped up to our eyeballs –“

They stopped their argument as they emerged into the glad, both gazes settling on Snorkmaiden.

It wasn’t often she was with Little My and Snufkin without Moomintroll to bridge the gap between the three of them. She’d known Snufkin a long time, but these days they simply didn’t seem to have anything to say to each other. And Little My she didn’t know at all. She only knew her well enough to know she was a menace. And that she likely thought Snorkmaiden a terrible bore anyway, so why bother.

Still, somebody needed to say _something_.

“What were two bickering about?” she said, uneasily.

“Ah, we just went to fetch Moomintroll for something,” Snufkin said, “but I’d rather forgotten it was _turkispäivä_.”

“So the whole sorry lot of them are going to spend the day _preening_ over their stupid fur,” Little My said, kicking the head off a buttercup. “They don’t even grow big winter coats, all toasty in that little house of theirs! They don’t need an entire day to shed and wash and tidy it up these days.”

“Now, now, traditions are important to many creatures,” Snufkin said, and then looked at Snorkmaiden. “Er, so I suppose you will be doing the same?”

Snufkin glanced down at the eyeshadow pallet and other pieces of make-up she’d scattered in the grass, looking at them as though they were arcane artefacts. Little My only cast a disdainful glance over them, sniffing.

“I won’t be, actually. We snorks don’t celebrate _turkispäivä_ ,” she said, “we’re actually originally from down south! We don’t grow a winter coat at all and…”

“Urgh!” Little My said. “The point is, we need to convince that stupid ball of fluff to come with us.”

“We could wait until tomorrow,” Snufkin said, putting his hands behind his back in that stiff way he did when he was uncomfortable.

“They’ll start building the bloody thing tomorrow and you know it!” Little My said, stomping her foot.

“Alright, there’s no need to swear,” Snufkin said.

“What exactly did you need my Moomintroll for?” she asked. There was really no need for them to talk to each other as though she wasn’t there. When did the two of them get to be such good chums anyway?

They both gave each other an odd look.

“Well…it turns out that they’re going to be building a golf course here in Moominvalley,” Snufkin said.

“A golf course?” Snorkmaiden repeated, frowning. Now that wouldn’t do at all. That would mean tearing down a lot of the lovely forest. And besides that, golfers were rarely handsome at all, so what would be the point?

“We have been trying to find a way to stop it, of course,” Snukin continued, and then scowled down at the grass, “but it turns out they’re a little cleverer than we gave them credit for.”

“It’s your fault,” Little My spat. “They saw your hat when we were running away!”

“Maybe so. Point is, they’ve planted a great deal of catnip all around the construction site. Little My and I won’t be able to get in without…well,” he said, and coughed.

“Ah,” Snorkmaiden said. She was familiar with the practice – Snork planted it around his bigger construction projects sometimes. Apparently, it deterred joxters from getting in and making a nuisance of themselves. Or at least distracted and slowed them enough they couldn’t make that much chaos before someone caught them. She knew Snufkin got a little silly on it, although it was news to her that Little My did.

“All we needed was for that big lug to rip us open a path, so we could climb on in and seed bomb the place to uselessness,” Little My said, sitting on a patch of moss with a huff, “and the great furball won’t even do that.”

Snorkmaiden sat for a moment, an idea uncurling in her head like a leaf after the rain.

“Well…why don’t I go with you instead?” she said.

It was obvious, right away, that neither of them had expected her to say that.

“ _You_?” Little My repeated.

”Well why not! I’m not just some silly little girl, you know,” Snorkmaiden said, irritated now. “I’m just as much an adventurer as the rest of you.”

“You know we’ll get really dirty, right?” Little My said nastily. “No place for a princess, construction sites.”

“Little My,” Snufkin hissed.

“Well, so what? Maybe I want. to get muddy!” Snorkmaiden said, fur flushing red from ears to tail. “In fact, I’m coming with you both, whether you like it or not!”

“Oh, and you’re taking your make-up kit with you, I expect?” Little My said. Snorkmaiden glowered at her, shoving it all in her little pouch and shoving it up a tree.

“I’ll come back for it later,” she said, forcing her fur sugar-coloured again. “Now, which way are we going?”

****

It was a long and awkward walk to the construction site. Snorkmaiden immediately saw the problem. She had been rather expecting a wire fence, the type one could cut open and wriggle through, but instead it was imposing wood, covered in signs and topped with nasty-looking barbed wire. All around it was a thick wall of pale green shrubs. The only break in the shrubs was at the entrance, where a rather mean-looking woman sat, turning her cudgel around in her paws. They took a detour around the back.

Snufkin and Little My had stuffed handkerchiefs with flower petals and tied it over their mouth and nose, but they kept their distance all the same.

“Right then,” Snufkin said, voice a little muffled by the flower petals. He dug a pair of garden shears from his pack. “We need you to cut a path and throw up this rope and this blanket over the barbed wire.”

She handed him a thick and musty-smelling green blanket, and a thick rope with an odd sort of metal contraption on the end.

“You’ll keep watch, won’t you?” she said, nervous despite herself. She’d only been in prison for a very short period of time, but she hadn’t liked it at all. And it wasn’t like she could count on the guard being a nice old lady who would knit her slippers again.

“I’ll make a willow warbler call if the guard comes this way,” Snufkin said. “You do the same when you’re done.”

“Right,” she said. “And, uh…what does that sound like, exactly?”

Snufkin tucked his handkerchief under his chin. He cupped his paws over his mouth and made a rhythmic little trilling sound.

“I’ll just whistle, if it’s all the same to you,” Snorkmaiden replied.

“Very well,” he said.

“Hurry up, we don’t have all day to stand around chin-wagging,” Little My said from a high branch. “And these flowers are itching my nose.”

Snorkmaiden had half a mind to tell her to not be so bossy but delaying it further would only make her more nervous. She tossed the blanket and rope over her shoulder, the shears heavy in her paw.

It wasn’t until she got to the line of shrubbery that she realised she wasn’t quite sure how big of a path she needed to make. Catnip didn’t affect her – didn’t affect any trolls, matter of fact – so she wasn’t sure how potent it was for creatures like Little My and Snufkin.

She decided to cut a path a metre wide. At first, she snipped away at it with the shears, but that was much too slow. She unsheathed her claws (good thing Moomintroll wasn’t about to see her do something so unladylike) and tore them from the earth.

Soon she had ripped open a path.

“Now, what to do with all this?” Snorkmaiden muttered, looking at all the plants she’d torn up.

From around the corner, she heard the guard laugh. It sounded as though she were talking to somebody else, staring to move around her post. Snorkmaiden’s heartrate rocketed. She bundled all of it as quickly as she could and shoved it all quickly into a rose bush.

The next step was perhaps trickier, especially her paws shaking as they were. She took the blanket into her paws and looked up at he fence. The blanket was thick, but the barbed wire was twisted and sharp and nasty-looking, and she wasn’t sure she quite believed it would help.

She tossed it up anyway. It hit the side of the fence and slid down, slumping uselessly on the floor. Behind her, she heard Little My cackle and Snufkin make a sharp shushing noise. Her fur began to pinken, and she forced the colour change to steady.

She tried again, but to much the same effect. The third time, she misjudged the angle and it ended up falling into a patch of catnip. She retrieved it, hearing Snufkin shush Little My again. The shushing was much, much worse than the laughing.

So she didn’t have much of a throwing arm! So what! She never claimed to be an amazing sportswoman!

A small paw prodded at her shoulder. She turned to see Snufkin.

“You’re only a beginner at that,” he said, in a tone that suggested he was trying to be kind. “Let me do it.”

He took the blanket from her and tossed it neatly and easily on top of the fence, where it smothered the barbed wire. He hurled the rope over as well, making sure it caught on the other side. Quick as anything, they had something they could easily climb.

“Could use your woodies for this bit,” Little My said, shoving past them both.

“They’re not _my_ woodies,” Snufkin replied instantly. “Although they do make a good ladder.”

There they went again, talking to each other as though she wasn’t there. Snufkin glanced back at her.

“Nicely done, Snorkmaiden. Thank you. We’ll be heading over now,” he said, and grabbed the rope in his paw, putting one foot on the fence (Little My had already sped up and over the wall).

“What, can’t I go with you?” she said. It was supposed to sound joking, but it came out much sharper than that. He froze.

“Well, er…of course,” he mumbled touching the brim of his hat. He wasn’t anywhere near a godo a liar as he thought. “Bear in mind, it will be dangerous work.”

“I live under my brother’s workshop. I doubt there’s anything more dangerous than that,” she said, with a confidence she didn’t feel. The intermittent explosions from Snork’s workshop weren’t quite the same as the risk of being tossed in prison again, after all.

“I suppose that’s true…”

“I might as well help, now I’m here,” she said, as casually as she could. Snufkin only made a grunting noise in reply and started to climb. Grabbing onto the rope, she began to follow, trying not to think about how unfamiliar the strain in her arms and back felt.

They were just crossing over the blanket, when Snorkmaiden’s foot stumbled on one of the signs on the wall. Squeaking with surprise, she grabbed onto the nearest thing – which just so happened to be the hem of Snufkin’s coat. Snufkin, almost over the blanket entirely, made an odd yelping noise and thrashed about. Between Snufkin’s scrambling and Snorkmaiden’s clambering, they ended up both tumbling over the side of the fence, the blanket falling on top of them with a _flump_.

Little My squealed with laughter, hard enough that when Snorkmaiden managed to push her snout out from under the blanket she saw the other girl had _tipped_ _over_.

“Sssh! We’ll get caught. And it’s not that funny,” she said hotly, standing and rolling the blanket up under her arm.

“It’s hilarious. Grace and poise to spare, you two,” Little My said, and even with the handkerchief over her face Snorkmaiden knew she was smirking.

“Oh, honestly. Let’s just get on with this. Snufkin, what next?” she said, and looked down at the boy still lying on the floor. “Snufkin?”

“Oh,” Snufkin said slowly. He sat up, rubbing his head. His handkerchief had come loose, scattering flower petals down his front. He tugged it back up over his mouth and nose, retying the knot behind his neck. “Apologies, I was a bit dazed for a second there.”

“Are you alright?” Snorkmaiden said.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said briskly. “Next, we need to find the digger. I saw them bring the accursed thing in this morning.”

“Right,” Little My said, cracking her knuckles. “Time for a bit of sabotage.”

Snufkin chuckled.

“Oh, we won’t need to take it apart. I managed to get hold of something that I think will be _very_ useful,” he said, and brought out a brown paper bag from his pockets, held closed with a wooden clothes peg.

“Molotov cocktail?” Little My asked, brightening up. Snufkin gave her a reproachful look.

“No, something a bit more delicate than that,” he said, removing the peg and opening the bag for them both to look in. Snorkmaiden peered in, curious. Inside the bag was a great quantity of dark soil. For a second, she wasn’t sure what was so remarkable, until something dusty green wriggle to the surface, and then another, and another, until the surface of the soil was just a squirming pale mass.

She squealed and jumped back.

“What are those squirming maggot-y things?” she said, trying to hide behind Little My. “They’re horrid!”

Snufkin looked offended.

“They’re scrapworms, and they’re lovely creatures,” he said, sounding every bit like a defensive mother. “Very clever little beasts.”

Little My looked at them dubiously.

“They don’t look clever to me,” she said, unimpressed.

“Well, perhaps not individually. But they have developed in a marvellously clever way,” Snufkin said, bouncing on his heels. “You see, they have found the trick of returning man-made things to the earth. They eat their way through metal and concrete and all such vile grey things, quick as you please, turning all of it to lovely mulch.”

He looked down at the bag, practically glowing.

“I’m quite lucky to have managed to develop such a nice crop of them.”

It was sweet to see Snufkin so excited, Snorkmaiden thought. She just wished he wasn’t excited about a _bag of maggots._

“So they’ll tear the digger to pieces?” Little My said, chuckling darkly. “Oh I can’t _wait_ to see that.”

Good grief. Could neither of them get excited about something _nice_? Snorkmaiden was beginning to think she was better off with her make-up.

“Yes. And I have plenty of hardy seeds to scatter too. By morning their construction site will be entirely overgrown,” Snufkin said, putting the peg back on the bag and storing it in his pocket gently.

“Right,” Snorkmaiden said, trying to recover as best as she could. “So where’s this digger, then?”

“Not sure,” Snufkin said, looking about. “Under one of these awful tarps, I suspect.”

So much of the woodland had already been cornered off with signs and bright yellow tape, covered with grey and yellow tarps. Snorkmaiden was sure she had wandered through this part of the woods many times, but she had to admit it was hard to orient herself. It had been made so ugly and cold.

“What sort of machine was it?” Snorkmaiden asked.

“Well…a digger,” Snufkin said.

“Big and orange, if that helps!” Little My said, in a tone that suggested she knew perfectly well it did not and was glad of it.

“There are different kinds,” Snorkmaiden insisted, feeling like they were being deliberately dim. “Did it have treads or wheels? Powered by coal or electricity? Or perhaps manually – some older ones still use pedals and cranks.”

Little My and Snufkin stared at her blankly.

“I haven’t the faintest,” Snufkin said, hiding a laugh behind his paw. Snorkmaiden wasn’t sure what was funny about that.

“Well…did it make smoke when it was driven in?” she said.

“Nah,” Little My said. “Just a lot of buzzing noise.”

“Electricity then,” Snorkmaiden said. “Little My, have a sniff around for sulphur, like the smell hattifatteners give out. Hopefully we can find the tread tracks too…”

“Hmph. Fine, suppose that’s not a bad plan,” Little My said. She pulled her handkerchief down to her neck and dropped to all fours, snuffling at the grass. Snufkin smiled at Snorkmaiden.

“That was clever,” he said.

“No need to be surprised,” she snapped.

“I’m not,” he said, raising his paws. She squinted at him. There was something about his face that looked a bit odd, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Oi! I’ve got something!” Little My bellowed.

“Sssssh!” Snorkmaiden hissed. “Why can’t you ever do anything quietly?”

“Why would I want to do that!” she shouted.

“So we don’t get arrested?” she said, sighing. Little My didn’t seem perturbed by the notion, just kept waving for them to follow. Snorkmaiden gave up, supposing that if the guard wasn’t coming now then she probably wouldn’t at all.

The three of them set off through the trees, Little My taking point, occasionally pausing to sniff at two different paths. Snorkmaiden followed as close as she could.

Snufkin trailed behind. It wasn’t unlike him to get distracted with admiring interesting mushrooms or unusual patches of moss, but by the third time she had to turn around and call for him to hurry up, Snorkmaiden was certain something was off.

“Snufkin,” she said, watching as he ambled towards her, veering just a little to the left. He just smiled at her, a little blankly.

“What’s going on?” Little My said, twisting around.

“I think something’s wrong with Snufkin,” she said, looking at him. “Snufkin, err. Are you feeling well?”

“Seven,” he said.

“…I didn’t say out of ten,” she said, dread sinking deep into her stomach. He laughed. Little My whirled around and hopped up stand on Snufkin’s chest, peeling open his eyes. It was then Snorkmaiden realised what looked so off about his face – his pupils were much bigger than usual.

“Hello Little Mymble,” Snufkin said, barely restraining a giggle.

“Oh for Pete’s sake!” Little My burst out, dropping down to the floor. “You got a whiff of catnip off that stupid blanket and you’re doo-lally, aren’t you!”

“Don’t be silly. I’m very well indeed!” he said confidently, and then just as confidently walked face-first into a tree. He fell onto the ground with a thump and started laughing, one paw over his face.

Little My tutted.

“Honestly, you’re completely useless!” she said, kicking him. “A sniff of the herbalist’s apron and you’re no good!”

She gave him another few kicks. Snufkin did not seem to mind. He caught Little My’s boot between his paws and clung onto it.

“Get off me, you smelly old pile of laundry!” she shouted, hopping up and down on one foot.

Snorkmaiden didn’t understand how these things worked, but it seemed a fairly severe and delayed effect for just a whiff of the blanket. Something must be wrong.

She thought for a moment and then she crouched next to him, sitting him up.

“Snufkin, keep still,” she said, and tried to pull down his handkerchief. Apparently Snufkin saw this as some sort of game, because he managed to make it extremely difficult to do. Only after did she unsheathe a claw and glower did he sit still. Tugging down the handkerchief, she peered in – yes, as she suspected. A catnip leaf, amid all the flower petals. She pulled it out.

“It must have slipped in when we fell,” she said. Little My leaned back, holding the handkerchief closer to her protectively.

“Great,” she grumbled. “So he’s been breathing that in the whole time.”

Snufkin struggled to his feet, but it seemed as if he couldn’t quite hold any tension in his limbs. He swayed a little in place.

“No need to worry!” he said cheerily. “Off we go.”

He wobbled forward a few steps and then stopped.

“I don’t know where we’re going,” he said, and started laughing again, loud enough that someone would _definitely_ hear. Both Little My and Snorkmaiden shushed him, but that only seemed to amuse him even more.

“Oi! I know you kids are in here!” shouted a voice from somewhere amid the trees. Snorkmaiden froze – so the guard wasn’t quite as stupid as she seemed.

“Grab him,” Little My said, shoving Snufkin towards her and yanking her handkerchief back over her face. “I’ll give ol’ misery-guts the run around.”

“But –“ she said, a bit alarmed to be left to care for Snufkin.

“Sulphur’s coming from that way,” Little My continued, pointing northwards.

“Where are you miscreants?” the guard shouted, footfalls approaching them. No time to discuss it further. She grabbed Snufkin and hauled him over her shoulder like a bale of hay, preparing to run as quickly and quietly as she could towards the sulphur. Before she did, she met Little My’s eye. For a second, they quite forgot about their usual animosity, and gave one another a determined nod.

And then they both ran, opposite directions. Snorkmaiden heard the guard shouting, the skittering of Little My running on all fours. Snorkmaiden ran as fast as she could and for as long as she could, but she was not as hardened a traveller as she’d been when she was little. And running while carrying another person – even a relatively small one - was nothing to scoff at.

Eventually she had no choice but to stop. Gapsing for breath, she leaned her free paw against a tree, Snufkin wiggling under her arm.

“You’re _very_ fast,” he said, sounding terribly impressed. “I thought trolls couldn’t be so fast. How did you get so fast?”

“Oh, be quiet!” she snapped. She dropped him onto the floor (only feeling a little guilty as she did so). He lay there on his stomach and eventually lifted a paw.

“Tracks,” he muttered. Snorkmaiden followed where he was pointing and saw through the trees a large set of tracks – that sort that a digger’s treads would leave.

“You’re quite right!” she said. “Let’s head there at once.”

“Legs don’t work,” he replied and yawned, rubbing his face against the grass and flopping onto his side. “Grass smells lovely, don’t you think?”

“Well I’m not leaving you here to get arrested,” Snorkmaiden said, hands on her hips. When Snufkin made no move to get up, just kept sniffing at the grass, she sighed and stooped down, pulling him onto her back. He didn’t seem perturbed by this. In fact, as soon as she managed to secure him onto her back, he seemed to think he’d been there the entire time.

“Snork fur is such an interesting texture!” he said cheerfully, patting at her fur. “Very different to moomin fur, when one looks at it closely. I suppose that will be to accomodate your colour-changing, wouldn’t it?”

“Shush, that guard is still looking for us,” she said. Snufkin nodded very seriously and fell silent, but for the occasionally snicker at some private joke with himself.

She followed the treads, occasionally stooping to cross under a length of ugly tape (‘KEEP OUT’), or step around a sign (‘AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY’). The treads were huge – easy to follow, now they’d spotted them, and the digger couldn’t be far. Snufkin seemed to have dozed off, falling completely silent on her back.

There was a faint yelp from the distance. Snorkmaiden hoped that it wasn’t Little My being captured. With how the day was going, it seemed likely.

Snorkmaiden sighed. She had made such a terrible mess of everything.

“You’re upset,” Snufkin said.

“I thought you were asleep,” she replied, startled.

“No. Well…perhaps,” he said, sounding a bit muddled about it himself. “Your fur’s blue.”

Snorkmaiden blushed, embarrassed she was letting her fur give her away like a silly little snorkling. She pushed it back to white.

“I’ve always wondered,” Snufkin said. Strike her pink, when was the last time Snorkmaiden heard him so _chatty_? “I’ve wondered, and forgive me if this is rude, but I’ve wondered if it is only ever one colour at a time? For instance, would you be able to turn your left arm red and your right arm purple?”

He laughed at the thought before Snorkmaiden could even reply.

“What about _pattern_ s? How splendid that would be. You could turn your fur into interesting constellations and flowers and such things,” he continued, giggling. “Or plaid.”

“You _are_ doo-lally,” she said.

“I do apologise. I’m afraid I couldn’t smell it through the flower petals,” he said. “Very much…very much hoisted by my own petard.”

For whatever reason, this seemed too much for him, and he buried his face into Snorkmaiden’s shoulder to laugh.

“Well, at least one of us is having fun,” she said with a sigh.

To her surprise, he went very still and silent at that, as if all the cheer had been drained out of him all at once.

“Ah,” he said quietly. “I apologise. I know you don’t like me a great deal these days, and I doubt I’m helping matters much now.”

She was so surprised by this that she almost dropped him.

“Don’t like you?” she repeated, baffled. “Wherever did you get that idea from?”

“We don’t see much of each other these days,” he replied quietly. She supposed that was true. Hadn’t for a few years, really.

It felt like taking advantage, to push him further on this when he wouldn’t normally say so much, but it was like a knot in her fur she couldn’t ignore.

“Well, you’re gone a lot of year,” she said, and then, speaking quickly so she didn’t lose the courage to say it, “and I know I’m not the one you want to spend that limited time with.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence.

“I’m afraid I can’t honestly apologise for that. I know I should, but there’s little I can do to help it,” he said finally. “I have tried.”

“I know,” she said gently.

“I can understand how that would make you dislike me,” he continued. “It’s entirely reasonable. But I’m afraid I really cannot help it.”

“I do like you, Snufkin,” she assured him, conscious this was veering towards a topic neither of them were ready to touch. “Today is just - it’s just – oh, it will sound terribly silly.”

“I’d like to hear anyway,” he said sincerely.

He was very kind. She’d almost forgotten.

“It’s just. Everyone else goes off and has adventures and achieves such exciting things, but I don’t do anything!” she said, feeling like a balloon in her chest had finally popped. “I just wait around for Moomintroll to rescue me or find me. And then he’s not even that pleased to see me when he gets there.”

Not like he is with you, she didn’t add, because that wouldn’t be fair. It wasn’t Snufkin’s fault. It wasn’t even really Moomintroll’s fault. Although she wished it was _somebody’s_ , because that would be easier to deal with.

“And, well, you and Little My are getting on so well these days, and both of you think me so dull,” she continued, when Snufkin didn’t reply. “I just thought. Well, here’s something. I can help and they can see I can be exciting and rebellious and do things for myself too! And look where it’s got us. You’re as baked as a scone still warm from the oven, poor Little My has probably been thrown in some rotten cell, and –“

Snufkin slapped her on the snout.

Well, sort of.

She suspected he was going for a comforting pat, but he didn’t have enough control of his limbs to do more than a limp-wristed sort of slapping.

“We don’t think you’re dull,” he said.

“Little My does,” she grumbled.

“Well…I don’t know. But you think she’s a brat, and that isn’t true either,” he said. “The truth is neither of you know each other that well at all.”

“She won’t give me the time of day,” she said, surprised by how much that hurt. “All she does is come along to make trouble when Moomintroll and I are trying to get time alone. She’d rather I wasn’t around at all.”

“I don’t think that’s true. But if it is, that isn’t fair of her,” Snufkins said. “You are excellent fun. You just have ideas about what you are and aren’t allowed to do. And you let these ideas boss you about.”

“You do exactly the same!” she said. “Just…in the opposite direction, I suppose.”

“And that’s how I can tell you’re doing it,” he muttered. Snorkmaiden snorted, wondering at how two creatures as different as them could also bet so alike.

At long last, they reached the digger. It loomed, ugly and much too sharply angled, all a flat orange that flattered nothing.

“Put me down, I can manage,” he said.

“Sobering up, are we?” she said, not managing to keep the amusement out of her voice. She put him down and saw he looked rather embarrassed. Lucidity was catching up to him.

Not giving a reply, he dug in a pocket of his rucksack for a canteen of water. He struggled long enough with the cap that Snorkmaiden thought she’d need to step in, but eventually managed to loosen it with his teeth and take a drink.

“You need to consider the issue of rescuing Little My as well,” she said.

“I doubt it,” he muttered.

“Oh, I know she’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s still a girl!” she insisted. “She still needs to be rescued! Probably wants to be, too!”

Snufkin gave her a very funny look at that.

“Oh, honestly!” she said, marvelling that none of the men in her life seemed to understand this _at all_. “Is chivalry completely dead? She’s probably more scared than you think –“

“What’s this about me being scared?”

Little My emerged from the bushes, a twig tangled in her ponytail. Snorkmaiden stared at her.

“You rescued yourself! Again!”

“Best way to be rescued,” Little My said, smirking. “I gave that useless old guard the run-around and caught her in her own net trap. She’ll be hanging from a branch until someone comes from her the next morning.”

“Oh no…we should probably bring her some food and water before then,” Snorkmaiden said. Little My tutted and turned to look at the digger, paws on her hips.

“That’s your problem,” she said. “For now, let’s take care of the next nasty thing.”

“Right you are,” Snufkin said. He took the brown paper bag out of his pocket and held it limply for a second, as though that had cost him a great effort. With a breath, he pulled open the door to the driver’s seat of the digger.

“Wait,” Snorkmaiden said, catching his elbow. “There’s no point spilling the worms there. They’ll just replace the seat. Or make the poor driver sit there anyway.”

She half-expected this comment to be met with some derision from Little My. Instead, she just looked at Snorkmaiden very carefully, as though considering her for the very first time.

“Then where do we put them?” she asked. Snorkmaiden giggled.

“The engine, obviously!” she said. “That’s the bit with all the tiniest fiddliest parts. And let’s put some in the treads and all the little mechanisms of the bucket too. Those are the things it can’t do without, and the most expensive and difficult to replace.”

“Do we care about their expenses?” Snufkin asked blankly.

“Well, yes,” Snorkmaiden explained, puzzled he was even asking. “Just causing a bit of trouble today is all well and good, but it won’t solve anything. But if things get too expensive, whoever’s in charge will give up and leave. That’s why we should make sure whatever trouble we cause is very expensive to fix.”

“Ha,” Little My said, smirking up at Snufkin. “Looks like she could teach you a few things, you smelly old vagabond.”

Snorkmaiden raised an eyebrow at that.

“I daresay I could teach _both_ of you a thing or two,” she said.

“Quite,” Snufkin agreed. “Now let’s complete the plan. I don’t fancy finding out whether or not that guard had friends.”

He attempted to pull the wooden peg off, but his paws seemed to be failing him, and he paused to stare at it, pupils still rather large.

“Having trouble there?” Little My sneered, clearly entertained.

“I’m perfectly capable,” he grunted as he struggled with the incredibly complex mechanisms of a clothes peg.

“Snufkin,” Snorkmaiden said gently, and extended a paw. “May I?”

“I thought you said they were horrible squirming maggot-y things,” Little My said.

“Well. Perhaps I was wrong. People can be wrong,” she replied, and then gave her a searching look. “First impressions often are, you know.”

“Hm, s’pose so,” Little My grunted, as much as glowing agreement one would ever get from her. She hopped onto the digger and kicked the back open, revealing the engine.

Snufkin smiled and passed the bag over.

“I’m just going to sit down, if neither of you mind,” he said, and wobbled over to an overturned tree stump nearby, sinking down on it with a troubled look. Oh dear. She’d possibly still be carrying him back to his tent, sobered up or not.

She unclipped the peg and peeked within. The horrible creatures surged to the surface of the soil, as though coming to greet her. Worse still, she could feel them moving through the bag. She shuddered but kept her grip, taking a step towards the digger.

“Sure you can manage it?” Little My goaded from the top of the digger. “We can always run and get Moomintroll to do it for you, you know.”

Snorkmaiden shot a glower up at her.

What did Little My get, she wondered, out of being so interfering? Perhaps, if she really wanted to understand the girl, that was a question worth trying to answer.

For now, Snorkmaiden had eco-terrorism to commit.

She tipped the bag over the engine. A big clump of soil came out and landed with a _splodge_ in the gears, but not very evenly.

“Oh no,” Little My said, clearly enjoying this. “You have to get your _whole paw_ in there.”

“Fine,” she snapped, and without breaking eye-contact, plunged her paw into the bag, sinking her fingers into the soil. She felt the scrapworms wiggling against her paw and could do nothing to suppress the shiver of revulsion that ran down from her neck to the tip of her tail.

Yet Little My’s smirk faltered, and the vicious delight Snorkmaiden got from that urged her to keep going.

She forced the soil into the crevices of the engine, between the treads, within all the cranks and levers. Years of seeing Snork’s blueprints or eavesdropping on conversations he thought she couldn’t understand left her knowing quite well where, exactly, would leave it beyond easy repair.

The fact this digger may well have been one of Snork’s designs?

Well, that didn’t put her off in the least.

Paper bag limp in her paw, she stepped back, fur streaked in mud up to her elbows. Little My hopped off from the roof of the digger.

“Alright, we better scarper,” she said, “We should pull down some of those signs while we’re at it.”

“Not yet,” Snufkin said.

“Urgh, do you still need to be carried, you ball of rags?” Little My asked. Snufkin chuckled.

“Oh, I just think neither of you would want to miss what happens next,” he said. Snorkmaiden and Little My exchanged a look. Little My shrugged and both girls joined Snufkin on the tree stump. For a while, Snorkmaiden thought perhaps he was simply talking rot again. And then she saw something tiny glowing within the treads.

A pale green glow, that grew brighter, spreading through the digger, shifting across all different colours. The digger sagged, the metal shrinking and warping, some of it turning to mulch and moss before their very eyes. The glow spread throughout the machine and through the ground, lighting up the trees and grass. The colours didn’t stop changing, as though the worms were talking to one another, working out the best way to restore something to the earth in colours and flashes.

It was lovely than any fireworks show Snorkmaiden had ever seen. Judging by the quiet awe on Little My’s face, and the contentment on Snufkin’s, the two of them quite agreed.

For a moment, the three of them sat quietly, shoulder-to-shoulder, their shadows flickering in the glowing lights.

**Author's Note:**

> GOD it was hard to give this a title that wasn't just "[always sunny jingle] Snorkmaiden Commits Eco-Terrorism"
> 
> I know Moominvalley will never do this but I'm invested in Snorkmaiden and Snufkin having one of those weird friendships where they were really close as little kids. Like they knew each other before they knew anyone else in the books! But then as they grew up they developed really differnet interests and values. So now, even though they both miss each other a lot, they just don't quite know what to do with each other. Throw 'they both like the same boy' into the mix and you've got some really fun stuff to play with.


End file.
